I Love You, Stupid
by PrincessOfSilence
Summary: "I just got lucky I guess. We met in elementary school. We had the same class schedule in the 7th grade and we just…clicked. I think technically the "girl of my dreams" would have like…a really bodacious rack, you know. Maybe different hair—she'd probably be a little more into sports. But, um…truthfully...Robin's…Robin's better than the girl of my dreams. She's real." Paul/Robin
1. Arcade Games

**I Love You, Stupid**

**Chapter 1: Arcade Games**

"_I just got lucky I guess. We met in elementary school. We had the same class schedule in the 7__th__grade and we just…clicked._" There was a beat and Paul sighed. "_I think technically the "girl of my dreams" would have like…a really bodacious rack, you know. Maybe different hair—she'd probably be a little more into sports. But, um…truthfully...Robin's…Robin's better than the girl of my dreams…She's real."_

_**-June 1990-**_

The arcade was filled with running, screaming children and pathetic teenagers who stood in dark corners; fortunately for Paul and McKenzie, they were at the age that fell right between the two extremes. At 10 years old, the only things they cared about were video games and cartoons.

"You're doing it wrong McKenzie," Paul scolded as he watched the game screen, the gummy worm in his hand halfway between the bag and his mouth. "They're going to kill you."

"No they're not," McKenzie protested.

"Yes they are."

"I'm on Level 100."

"That doesn't matter. You're still going to die."

Lo and behold, "GAME OVER" blipped repeatedly on the screen, gaining a groan from McKenzie and a triumphant smile from Paul.

"Don't say it."

"I was still right," Paul muttered.

They backed away from the Galaga machine and bickered as they made their way through the arcade, dodging other kids who were crowding around various games.

"We still have lots of quarters left." McKenzie said. "What do you want to do now?"

"Spy Hunter looks like it's open," Paul suggested, but McKenzie knew he was just stalling, and there was only one game he wanted to play.

Pac-Man. Paul was the king of Pac-Man. He had held the first spot on the High Score list for a year, and what a hard-earned spot it was. He had spent almost two years practicing and honing his skills before he could get onto the High Score list, and after that, it was easy to get number one.

"Well, if it isn't the dynamic duo," a high-pitched voice said from behind them.

"Kimmy," McKenzie sneered as they turned around. There, in a ThunderCats tee shirt and shorts, hair in pigtails, stood Kimberly Moore. She had been his—and therefore by association Paul's—worst enemy, ever since she spilled juice on him in Kindergarten. They hated each other with a passion, "What are you doing here? Don't you have Girl Scout cookies to sell?"

"The season hasn't started yet, stupid," she scoffed.

"What do you want, Kimmy?" Paul asked. While he disliked her, he just couldn't force himself to hate her as much as McKenzie did; he just figured that he couldn't hate anyone that way.

"Did you know a new family moved in next door to me last week?" Kimmy asked. "I made friends with their daughter; she'll be in our class this fall. She's nice, but kinda shy. She has a puppy."

"What does that have anything to do with his question?" McKenzie asked.

"Well, I thought that if I took her to the arcade, she might get out of her shell a little bit," she laughed and looked directly at Paul. "She's on her way to beating your precious High Score right now, Pac-Master."

"What!" Paul exclaimed, suddenly feeling sick.

"You're evil," McKenzie hissed.

"I know," she smiled triumphantly; "I'm going to go get a soda now. Have fun!" She skipped off, pigtails bouncing as she went.

"I hate her," Paul muttered, trying not to yell.

"I know," McKenzie sighed. "It's hard not to."

Paul couldn't believe it. His hard-earned high score was about to be for nothing; he would be second-best. He had worked so hard to get the high score; could he do it again? Of course he could…unless he didn't have to. Unless he could stop that girl from pushing him to second-best.

He handed the bag of gummy worms to McKenzie and then pushed through the crowd of people in the arcade, ignoring his friend's calls and protests. Eventually, he made his way to the row of Pac-Man machines, the beeps and blips of the game were like music to his ears. He frowned at the sight of the girl standing before the only occupied machine and walked over, stopping next to her.

"What level are you on?" he asked.

"Uh…" she paused, "Dunno. Lost count." He took a look at her score and sighed; it wouldn't be long until she caught up to him, but she only had one life left, and that gave him a glimmer of hope.

"How long have you been playing?"

"A little over an hour."

"Not just this game," he clarified. She looked over at him for a split second before turning back to the screen.

"I know what you meant," she nodded and Paul felt light-headed. She was a novice! Oh, he was going to kill Kimmy. This short, scrawny, brown-haired girl hadn't played a single game of Pac-Man before today, and she was on her way to beating his score.

"Oh," was all he could say. "You're the new girl, right?"

"Are you a reporter or something?" she laughed, fingers moving over the buttons at an unbelievable rate. Paul looked at the screen and almost cheered when he noticed that she faltered for a split second and now had Inky on her tail.

"I —" he was about to make a snarky remark, but was interrupted.

"What are you doing here, West?" Kimmy asked, popping up beside him.

"He was just checking out the competition." When had McKenzie gotten here?

"Competition?" the girl asked.

"Paul here has the number one spot on the high score list," McKenzie bragged.

"Really?" she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Y-yeah," Paul nodded bashfully.

"What was your score?" the girl asked sincerely.

"Two hundred fifteen thousand," he replied.

"Oh." She muttered without looking at him. Paul looked down at his shoes, finding it hard to accept sure defeat.

Almost instantaneously, the game over sound filtered into his ears and a dual gasp came from Kimmy and McKenzie, who had been arguing. Paul looked up and saw the girl turned to face him, "GAME OVER" blinking on the screen behind her.

"There," she shrugged. "You're still the best."

"Really?" Paul asked, earning a nod and a smile. "Wow. Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." She replied and stepped aside, "You can play now if you want. I have to get home before dinner."

Paul smiled at the girl and watched as she waved goodbye before walking toward the exit.

"Told you she was nice," Kimmy said, and then ran after her, "Robin, wait! You don't know the way back home!"

Paul, though, was staring at the screen on the game cabinet. In capital letters, right beneath Paul's name and score, was "Robin Wright—214, 957."

Robin Wright. Pac-Man girl. Nice Pac-Man girl. Nice Pac-Man girl, who forfeited just forty-four points before beating his high score. And he thought of her as a scrawny, a-and short, and...evil. Almost to a Kimmy level.

"Figures that she would be friends with the devil, right Paul?" McKenzie asked.

"Uh…" Paul blinked. "Right."

* * *

**A/N: So...hi there. Welcome to my first non-TVD fic. I actually started writing this story last year, but I never published it and never got a chance to finish it. I tried, but I just kept putting it off, and putting it off, and putting it off. (Much like my other fics.) But now I'm finally posting it after falling in love with the magic that's 500 Days of Summer again.**

**Although the movie was about Tom's relationship/obsession with Summer, I thought that looking at the relationship between Tom's friend, Paul (played by Matthew Gray Gubler), and his girlfriend, Robin (an unseen character), would be interesting. The chapters will be a tad shorter than what I'm used to writing, but I figured that having each chapter be a little moment in Paul and Robin's life would keep with the broken timeline that 500 DOS had.**

**Lastly, I'd like to send a big thank you to my patient and wonderful beta: tumble and fall. She beta'd the first 3 chapters of this story before it fell off the face of the earth. She was absolutely lovely to me, and beta'd wonderfully. Thank you so much Vikki!**

**And that's it. I know that the 500 Days of Summer tag isn't very popular, so I'm not expecting to get a bunch of reviews or anything, but I hope that you enjoy the story anyways. Happy reading!**


	2. Moving In

**Chapter 2: Moving In**

_**-August 2007-**_

Despite the warm and comfortable feeling the Wright's living room exuded, Paul was anything but, especially with the glares he felt Mrs. Wright give him when she walked past the doorway. Once upon a time, she had welcomed him into their home with open arms, offering cookies and milk when he and Robin were working on homework or coming home from the arcade. Everything changed when he first took her out on a date in the 12thgrade. Ever since then, he was scared to set foot into the Wright household because of her.

"Robin, are you ready yet?" Mrs. Wright called up the stairs.

"I just got off the phone with Kim. Jesus!" Robin called back. "Cool your jets, Mom!"

"It's impolite to keep guests waiting."

"Then don't make him wait in the living room like he's gonna break something if he moves!" There was a brief silence followed by the click-clacking of Mrs. Wright's shoes on the hardwood, and then she appeared in the doorway.

"I'm sure you heard my daughter's obnoxious yelling," she said with a forced smile. "You can go upstairs if you'd like." As soon as she was out of sight, Paul let out the breath that he had been holding and got to his feet.

Today was his turn to choose what to do; it was part of a system he and Robin agreed on to avoid a repeat of their very first argument. Originally, he had planned for them just to bum around; walk around the city until they were too tired or too hungry, go to the deli for lunch, stop by the bakery if they were in the mood for something other than the deli's famous lemon loaf, then they would rent a movie and just...enjoy being in each other's arms. But then he spent an hour looking through a newspaper that had been left in the on-call room—an hour he should've used for sleep—and the idea just hit him.

"Hey," Robin greeted excitedly as soon as Paul reached her room, jumping into his arms when he held them out for her. "I'm sorry about my mother," she apologized when they stopped kissing.

"Don't worry about it," Paul replied. "She's…"

"Evil," Robin supplied.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of 'overprotective', but evil probably works too."

He laughed and let her finish getting ready, flopping into the lounge chair that sat beside the bookshelf.

"What do you have planned for today?" Robin asked, returning to the task of putting her shoes on.

"Are you ready to go on an adventure?" Paul asked in return.

* * *

"One more," Paul pleaded, squeezing his arm tighter around her waist as they walked down the crowded sidewalk. "Just one more apartment, and then we can go back to your place; I promise. We can even watch that one movie you like so much, and I won't tease you about crying."

Apartment hunting was the last thing on her mind when Paul mentioned an adventure, and although she had been excited when he showed her the list of places he had picked for them to look at together, the excitement soon faded as quickly as time did. They never had time together anymore; Paul had started his surgical internship in July, and she and Kim decided to extend the hours at the bakery.

"I just hate wasting your day off," Robin sighed. Today had been the first time that they had the entire day to spend together, and as much as Robin wanted to voice her opinion, she didn't want Paul to take it the wrong way; moving in together had been something they had talked about for a while, but never really had the opportunity to follow through. And now, five hours and six terrible apartments later, she would even agree to spend the rest of the day at that stupid sandwich shop.

"Do you really want to live with your parents anymore?" Paul asked, smiling triumphantly when Robin groaned.

"Do I have to answer that?" She buried her face into his chest as they waited for the crosswalk signal to change.

How long had they known each other now? Was it 17 years? And how long had they been together? Paul guessed it was just a little over 10. He knew it seemed a little sad, but neither of them had been ready for anything big until now what with college, then med school for him and the bakery for her. He knew they were both ready for this step, however big it was; the only problem was finding the right place.

"So," he began with bated breath, "one more?"

"Fine; one more," she relented.

* * *

"…the only closet space is in the foyer and the hall, but the apartment is very spacious. You can put a chest of drawers in the bedroom and it'll be perfect," the red-clad realtor said cheerfully as she led Robin and Paul through the apartment. Robin had expected her to be tired of showing prospective tenants around and just let them take a look for themselves, just like all the other realtors and landlords had, but that wasn't the case at all. Apparently, it had been on the market for a few days, and only one other person came to look at it.

"Now, this is my favorite spot," the realtor said, leading them to the center of what would've been the living room. "It's so wide and open and airy, especially with the windows."

"Do you see that view?" Paul whispered.

"Yeah that's…yeah," Robin replied speechlessly.

Apartment 507. It had one bedroom, one-point-five bathrooms, a living room which doubled as a dining room—or so the realtor had said; it was hard to imagine as it was lacking furniture—and a kitchen big enough for one person…maybe. Paul liked the little nook in the bedroom, right next to the windows, where he could put a bookshelf or a desk. Robin liked the way the kitchen mixed modern and classic with its stainless steel appliances and polished oak cabinetry. They loved it, but thanks to Murphy's Law, which Robin was a strong believer in, they couldn't just fall headfirst into something this big without doing a little recon.

So Robin and Paul spent almost two hours walking around the empty apartment, inspecting every little detail. They counted every electrical outlet, listened to see if the doors creaked when they opened, and Robin even made Paul flush the toilets, something she learned from her father before they moved into their house when she was 10. She didn't know _why _they were doing it, but just so they had something to do, they timed how long it took for the water to fill back up.

"You two are so cute," the realtor gushed as they bickered about the master bathroom. "How long have you been married for?" And that stopped their argument cold.

"We aren't married yet," they replied simultaneously. Paul and Robin looked at each other for a second, then back to the realtor with wide smiles.

* * *

"You did what?" Mrs. Wright exclaimed. Mr. and Mrs. Wright had been sitting in the living room, the television muted as they each looked through binders marked "Monthly Expense Reports" and "Wallpaper Samples" respectively when Paul and Robin returned from their adventure.

"We found an apartment," Robin repeated. "I'm calling a city inspector tomorrow to make sure it's up to code, and if it is, we're moving in."

"How long have you two been looking to move into your own apartment?" Mr. Wright asked, taking his reading glasses off.

"Uh…" Robin stuttered.

"Since this morning," Paul told him. "We got lucky, I guess."

"Well isn't that _wonderful_," Mrs. Wright bit out.

"It certainly is," Mr. Wright laughed, ignorant to his wife's sarcasm. He stood up and shook Paul's hand, then kissed his daughter's forehead. "This is a very big step for you both, I'm very proud."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Maybe you shouldn't be so fast in congratulating them, Daniel," Mrs. Wright cut in, standing up as well. "Are they really responsible enough to live on their own?"

"With all due respect," Paul began, forcing himself to be brave under Mrs. Wright's scrutiny. "We're both 27. I just started my internship at the hospital, and Robin runs a business, successfully, I might add. If we aren't responsible enough now, I don't think we ever will be."

"He has a point, dear," Mr. Wright agreed.

Mary Wright was silent for about 10 minutes glaring at her husband, her daughter and her daughter's _boyfriend _with as much malice as she could force. She hadn't been as reluctant when Jack said he was moving to New York—her son had always been a rebel with a free spirit that couldn't be contained—but Robin was her baby, and it seemed that the more she spent time with Paul West, the more she was pulling away. And now she wanted to live with him.

"Alright," she finally relented. "Do what you want!"

"Oh thank you, Mom," Robin exclaimed, embracing her mother tightly.

"But I still expect you to call every day, and visit _at least _once a week when you aren't busy."

"I promise," Robin nodded.

"And you," she turned her gaze to Paul, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Don't break my daughter's heart."

"No need to worry, Mrs. Wright," Paul smiled, wrapping an arm around Robin's waist. "I made that promise a long time ago and I don't intend to break it."

* * *

**A/N: Chapter TWO! We-as in me and whoever is reading this-made it! I was really iffy about posting a second chapter, especially since I promised to post a new chapter on two of my other stories this week, and I have yet to do that. O.O Hehe.**

**I think that this chapter connects with the first chapter because in chapter one, both Paul and Robin's priorities were about games, and in this one their focus is on a serious matter, like moving in together.**

**Anyways, I hope that, if anyone is reading, that you liked it. I like it. I guess that's what counts most.**

**Have a wonderful day!**


	3. Procrastination

**Chapter 3: Procrastination**

_**-November 1994-**_

"Hi Mrs. Wright," Paul greeted as the front door swung open.

"Paul," she greeted with a smile. "How are you?"

"Trying to survive high school," he replied. "Is Robin home? We're supposed to study for our history test on Monday."

"Yeah, come on in," Mrs. Wright ushered him inside. Paul adjusted his messenger bag and walked inside, setting his bike against the wall beside the door.

The first time he had set foot inside the Wright's house was in the sixth grade after he had scraped his knee on the pavement while he and Robin were walking home from the arcade. He had been a little scared to go inside at first, but when Robin pointed out that he was bleeding, he immediately agreed. On the outside, it looked like any of the other houses on the block—tall and clean-cut, with a lot of windows and cobblestone siding—but the inside was much different. Everything was polished and waxed and organized; Paul had even asked Robin if her house was a museum.

"Are you hungry?" Mrs. Wright asked as she led him down the hall. "We just had lunch, but I could make you a sandwich if you'd like."

"No I just ate too," Paul shrugged. "Thanks, though."

"Alright then," she said and gestured towards the stairs. "You know your way."

"Hey," Robin greeted as Paul walked into her bedroom. She was sprawled out in her lounge chair, headphones around her neck as she pulled a tape out of her cassette deck.

"What are you listening to?" he asked, placing his bag on the floor before sitting on her bed.

"I _was_ listening to Poison," Robin began with a roll of her eyes, "but my mother gave me a nice lecture about listening to something more cultured like Dvorak."

"But you like Dvorak."

"Not when his music is being shoved down my throat by the dictator." Paul laughed and Robin threw a pillow at him. "Oh shut up."

"She's not that bad," Paul said.

"Yes she is," Robin huffed.

"You're overreacting."

"I hate you."

"You love me," he replied. "I'm your best friend."

"No, Kimmy's my best friend," Robin corrected. "You are her replacement until she stops obsessing over the captain of the wrestling team."

"Thanks," Paul scoffed, feigning insult. "Glad to know that I mean so much to you."

"Oh Paul!" Robin jumped out of her chair and tackled him in a hug, the both of them falling backwards onto her bed. Although Paul had been growing practically non-stop since the eighth grade and was now quite lanky, and though Robin liked to be considered as "fun-sized," she could still take him down using the element of surprise.

"You...are funny, you're sweet, a-and you...you're smart. You're irreplaceable."

"But I'm not your best friend?" he asked. Robin sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You're my best guy friend. Are you happy now?"

"Very."

Paul stared at Robin—at her wide smile, her bright eyes, and the way her nose scrunched up just a little bit and twitched every so often like a rabbit's. Although they had known each other since that day at the arcade, and they had been friends since the first day of fifth grade, he hadn't _noticed_ her until last year during their eighth grade class field trip to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Sure, since then he had crushes on other girls, but Robin wasn't any of them, or any of those stuck-up cheerleaders Tom seemed to like or those girls with bottle cap glasses and headgear that McKenzie stared at all day, no matter how odd it seemed. She was Robin. She called him "stupid" on a regular basis, had him over to her house because she was trying out a new recipe, and met him at the library on Thursdays to help him with his algebra. How many hours had they spent at the arcade together trying to get the high score on every machine they had? How many times had she forgone hanging out with Kimmy and put up with Tom and McKenzie because he invited her over for a Super Mario World tournament?

Maybe, just maybe, if he got the courage he could...

"So," Robin sighed, sitting up. "History?"

And the opportunity to see if Robin could be anything more than his friend was dashed to bits.

* * *

"How do you expect to pass this test?" Robin asked as she stirred the contents of her large mixing bowl.

"Luck," Paul replied, placing his head onto the worksheet-covered counter top.

"You aren't that lucky," she laughed.

"I know," he groaned.

Studying had been a bust; Robin loved history class so it didn't take her long to finish her study guide, but Paul had given up after the first question and resorted to folding his notes into paper airplanes and throwing them at her as she wrote. Finally, she got him to study by bribing him with homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Paul couldn't refuse; Robin had a gift when it came to sugar, and he had the biggest sweet-tooth in the world. Her chocolate chip cookies were better than his grandmother's, and that was saying something, so he promised that he would finish his study guide as long as he got a plate of cookies when he was done.

"I think you need to take better notes in class," Robin pointed out, motioning towards his notebook that was half-filled with doodles.

"Maybe I could just copy your sheet?" Paul suggested. "Then I can just study it when I get home."

"No."

"Robin!"

"No!"

"Please!"

"I can't," Robin huffed. "That would be cheating."

"He doesn't even collect the study guides," Paul pleaded.

"You're missing the point."

"Am I?" he asked. "As long as I know the answers by Monday I'll be fine."

"No cookies unless you do the work yourself," Robin said with a tone of finality, placing her mixing bowl onto the counter with a scowl.

"But you're already done with the dough."

"I won't bake them."

"Fine by me," he reached across the counter and took the bowl. "I'll just eat it like this."

"Ew, Paul," Robin scowled in disgust. "You'll get sick."

"No I won't," he shrugged, pulling a spoon out of one of the drawers.

"Give that to me!" she ran around the counter and tried to get the bowl back, but Paul just lifted it above her head. "For God's sake, Paul!"

"Promise that you'll help me and I'll put it down."

"_Paul—_"

"_Robin—_"

"Alright, you asked for it," Robin sighed and walked across the kitchen. She hauled herself onto the counter top and opened one of the higher cabinets; she pulled out a large plastic container filled with flour and jumped back onto the floor. She unscrewed the lid of the container and took a handful of flour. "I will flour you up."

"You wouldn't," Paul scoffed, shaking his head.

"Then I guess you don't know me very well," Robin chuckled. Paul frowned and placed the spoon on the counter, then took a handful of cookie dough.

"If you flour me, then I hope you have a good time getting dough out of your hair."

"Then I guess we're at a standoff."

"I guess we are."

Time seemed still as they stood in the kitchen, staring at each other with their weapons of choice in hand. They were both so focused on each other's movements that they didn't hear the front door opening or footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Hello sweetheart; how was your day?" Mr. Wright began, stepping into the kitchen. Instantly, in a moment of surprise, both Paul and Robin turned towards him and released their confectionery ammunition, and Mr. Wright became an abstract piece made of dark grey wool, unbleached all-purpose flour, and chocolate chip cookie dough.

"Oh my god," Robin exclaimed when she realized what had happened. "Daddy, I am so sorry." Mr. Wright cleared his throat and looked at himself.

"I suppose my suit was in need of a makeover," he said, thumbing a bit of dough off his lapel. He looked up with a good-natured grin and turned to Paul. "It's good to see you again, Paul."

"You too, sir," Paul replied sheepishly.

Mr. Wright was the more easy-going of Robin's parents. The first time Paul met him was at a 4th of July picnic and after having spilled a bowl of pasta salad onto him, he had been scared when the man just laughed it off. Although, for being such a passive person, Paul had never seen Daniel Wright _not_ wear a suit.

"I should go and clean myself up before the missus sees," Mr. Wright chuckled. "I suggest you two do the same for this kitchen."

"Yes sir/daddy," Paul and Robin responded simultaneously. Once he was out of the room, the two teenagers looked at each other and failed to hold in their laughter.

"I guess I should clean up," Robin said.

"And I guess I should do my homework," Paul agreed.

* * *

**A/N: And that was Chapter 3. Special shout-out/dedication to princess-mariyah, who is the first to review this story. (I'm glad that you like the story so far!) This chapter was...sort of a deeper introduction to Robin's parents, and especially to see how Robin's mother** _**used**_** to like Paul, since she seems like she can't stand him now.**

**I hope to have Chapter 4 posted...soon, but I'm a little swamped with homework (and watching football, shh) so I don't know when, exactly, soon will be.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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